


It was an accident

by LadyJupiter



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-30
Updated: 2013-01-30
Packaged: 2017-11-27 12:05:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/661808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyJupiter/pseuds/LadyJupiter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John is enjoying a quite evening at the flat, when Molly shows up upset and slightly drunk from being stood up by another date and proves to John that she's not just Molly, the nice girl who works in the morgue. NSFW</p>
            </blockquote>





	It was an accident

**Author's Note:**

> While this is not my first fanfic, it is my first Sherlock one. I am currently working on at least two more. I have no idea where I came up with this one, it was one of those, "what if" kind of things. I do hope you all enjoy it. I had fun writing it. 
> 
> (added Jan 26 2014) This was my very first Sherlock fic and I kind of wrote it before actually watching the whole series and becoming a die hard Johnlock shipper. I'm still leaving it here, because I am fairly proud of the writing style.

It was just a mistake

(A Sherlock, John, & Molly fanfic)

 

John Watson sat on the couch inside the flat at 221B Baker Street enjoying the silence with a book and a hot cup of tea. Not more than 20 minutes ago Sherlock Holmes had been there and in a way that only he could, threatened John within an inch of his life if he didn't provide him with a cigarette. John, however, having gone through several of Sherlock's withdrawal stages, was as unphased as he was looking at a dead body. Once he realized that John was not going to cave, Sherlock had said a few unkind things in Japanese (least John figured they were unkind, he only spoke French as a second language and that was very limited) and stormed out the door, taking Skull with him. John knew Sherlock was going to try to find a way to get a cigarette. John also knew that was impossible as he had confiscated Sherlock's bank card as soon as the first signs of withdrawal had begun appearing a few days ago. John shook his head. He wondered if Sherlock was ever going to be able to quit and why he insisted on trying it cold turkey when the nicotine patches at least kept him somewhat sane. Either way, John was determined to enjoy the quite while it lasted. Sherlock would be back soon and then who knew where they would end up. So John sat and read and sipped his tea, when there was a knock at the door. Odd, who'd be showing up at this time of the evening? John had a made a point of putting a time frame of when they would accept clients on the blog homepage after having a crazed woman show up at 3 in the morning. The knock was an interesting sounding one; very light, very timid, as if the person knocking wondered if they had any right to be knocking on this particular door. John closed his book and got up to answer the door.

                        “Can I help yo… Molly?” John stopped mid-way into his polite answering of the knock. Molly Hooper, the young woman who worked in the morgue at St. Bart’s was standing outside the door, looking at her feet for some reason. After a moment of silence, she slowly looked up and John could tell from her running make up and puffy eyes, she’d been crying.

                        “H-Hi John. I-is Sh-Sherlock home?” she asked, her voice a bit hoarse and cracked.

                        “No, he’s stepped out for a bit of fresh air.”

                        “Oh.” Came the quite reply with her mouth forming the word perfectly. John looked her over, wondering why she’d shown up at the flat suddenly. From the way she was dressed, she had obviously been out for the evening, most likely a date. Did the guy do something unbecoming to her? John felt his temper rising if that was the case.

                        “Are you ok Molly? Did something happen to you?” John asked. Molly shook her head.

                        “N-no.” she looked a bit sheepish at the inside of the door.

                        “C-can I come in? I won’t stay long, I just…”

                        “No, no, please.” John said, feeling a bit guilty for just making a crying girl stand out in the hallway as long as he had. He opened the door a bit more and Molly carefully padded inside the flat. John closed the door quietly.

                        “So what’s wrong?” John asked her. Molly let out a sob.

                        “I-I was stood up!!” came a hurt and angry reply. Oh, poor Molly; John thought. The poor girl did have rather bad luck with men and John couldn’t figure out why. She was pretty enough, sweet, kind, patient. God yes was she patient with how much of Sherlock’s abuse she would and often did put up with. Molly spun around suddenly and wrapped John in a big hug and started crying fresh tears on his shoulder. John, not really sure what else to do, gently hugged her back, keeping his arms at her upper mid-section. Turning his head a bit to look at her, John got a whiff of something that smelled like alcohol.

                        “Molly, have you been drinking?” came the concerned and surprised question. Molly nodded, her head buried in his shoulder.

                        “Just a couple of small cocktails. I was just so…” her voice cut off with another quite sob. John held her just a bit longer and then pulled her away from him to look in her eyes. They were so red from crying, there was no way to tell how much she had actually drank. Molly finally let go of him and stood there like she didn’t know what to do.

                        “Listen Molly, why don’t you have a seat and I’ll make you up some tea.” John said. Molly nodded, but made no attempt to move. John looked at her briefly and then went to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. When he came back, he found Molly had made her way to the couch and was looking at his book. Molly looked up from the book when she noticed John had reached her.

                        “Thank you.” She said, taking the tea and setting the book down. John sat next to her on the couch and took a sip of his tea.

                        “Do you like to read Molly?” John asked, trying to make polite conversation. Molly sipped her tea and just kind of stared off into space. John wasn’t overly sure of what to do. An uncomfortable silence filled the room for what seemed like an eternity, but was probably only the span on a couple of minutes.

                        “John, what do you think of me?” Molly asked quite suddenly. John thought to himself. How would he describe Molly? He’d never looked at her in any way other than the fact she was just Molly.

                        “Well.” He began.

                        “You’re very sweet. You’re kind and caring, and well, you’re just you.” He said.

                        “I’m just me?” she asked. John wasn’t sure what she meant.

                        “Do you think I’m pretty John?” Molly asked. She had put her tea down on the coffee table and turned to look at him. John unknowingly swallowed the rest of his tea in one gulp. He was starting to feel a little nervous and uncomfortable and wasn’t exactly sure why.

                        “Well, sure, I mean, yes you’re very prett..” John was cut off by Molly flinging herself at him and kissing him. John was so surprised by this action his tea cup fell from his hands and bounced on the floor, rolling away. In the moment of surprise by her sudden act, Molly managed to get her tongue in his mouth and kissed him as if her life depended on it. Not sure what to think (and maybe letting his ego get the best of him) John kissed her back, their tongues entangling with each other’s. John didn’t feel much of anything from the kiss and only assumed Molly needed something to comfort her and make her feel she was desirable. He’d been steadily committed to Sherlock for quite some time now and though he supposed he might still enjoy a woman if things went south between them, it hadn’t crossed his mind as of late. Molly seemed to finally get enough of tasting John’s mouth and broke the kiss. Sighing, she laid her head on his chest.

                        “Why doesn’t anyone want to be with me John?” she asked. Again, John was at a loss for words. He wrapped his arm around Molly’s shoulders and gave her a friendly little squeeze.

                        “I wouldn’t dwell on it too much Molly. You’re a nice girl; I’m sure someone who appreciates that will come…”

                        “NICE GIRL?!” Molly practically screeched at him. She pulled out of his arm and looked angrily at him. John just blinked at her. What had he done wrong?

                        “Is that all I am? Just a ‘nice’ girl?!” she demanded.

                        “Well, I, I was just saying…” he stammered, but Molly kept going.

                        “Molly, the nice girl! Molly the girl who works at St Bart’s in the morgue who the only guys she can get to hang out with her are dead!!” she snapped. John couldn’t believe how worked up she was getting over one comment.

                        “Molly, I’m sorry I didn’t…”

                        “I’ll show you!” she snipped and made a grab for his pants. John tried to stop her.

                        “Molly, what are you doing?!” he demanded. But she was so lost in her anger and alcohol as well and just slapped him away. Finally jerking his pants open, she glared at him.

                        “A nice girl huh? Would a nice girl do this?” she demanded and grabbing for his knickers, exposed his member to the outside world.

                        “Molly, don’t! You’re drunk, you’re, Huauaaaaaa!!!!!” the gasp escaped John before he realized it as Molly bent down and placed her mouth around him. Even though John was in a relationship with Sherlock, his member had no problem quickly coming to full attention inside of Molly’s warm and moist mouth. John fell backwards in a sort of leaning position as Molly worked with his member, her tongue knowing the right places to tantalize. John heard himself moan a bit and started to claw at the couch as she raised and lowered her head on his member with surprisingly expert rhythm and timing.

                        “M-M-Molly… s-st-stop…. This isn’t…. this isn’t right….” John begged her, but he was completely at the mercy of how damn good it felt. Even Sherlock wasn’t this well-rehearsed at the act, though he wasn’t horrible either. Sherlock!! The thought hit him like a lead pipe to the head. If Sherlock were to walk in on this…

                        “Molly, please… I-I-I…” John couldn’t say anything hardly, couldn’t think as Molly sucked, licked, nibbled, did everything right to John’s shaft that she held firmly in her mouth. John tore a bit at his hair as he felt himself near release. It was Molly; he couldn’t do that, not to her and not to Sherlock. But Molly wasn’t going to stop until she proved herself apparently. She stopped jerking for a bit and went about lovingly teasing the head.

                        “Do you still think I’m a nice girl John?” she asked around his member in her mouth. John was biting his lower lip to keep from making any noise. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t, and then Molly hit the right spot and it was over. John lost control and with a deep moan, released in her mouth. But Molly didn’t let go. She slowed her up and down movements and allowed him to finish inside her mouth. By the time he was done, John had placed his hands over his face, embarrassed for what he had unwillingly just done. He finally felt Molly let go of his now mostly lifeless member. Daring a glance at her, he watched as Molly carefully swallowed what he’d left inside of her mouth. John was trembling from the power of the release as Molly leaned up towards his face.

                        “What do you think of me now John?” she asked and kissed him again. John grabbed her shoulders in an attempt to push her off of him, but a creaking of a stair made them both break the embrace. They turned to look. No one there. John let out a sigh of relief and then heard Molly gasp. He turned to look back at her. Molly was pulled away from him and on her knees, her mouth covered, her face mortified as she looked at his lower section and realization of what she had done dawned on her.

                        “Oh my, oh my God, John! John, I’m so sorry!” she cried. She leapt from the couch and grabbing her purse, dashed for the door.

                        “Wait, Molly, its ok, it was an accident.” He tried to call after her. Molly stopped briefly at the doorway and looked back at him.

                        “Pl-please John, don’t tell Sherlock.” She pleaded and was out the door. John heard her running down the stairs and the door at the bottom slam shut. He let out a small sigh, not sure what to think of what happened, but also at relief that Sherlock hadn’t come home.

                        “John, I’m back!” came a call from the stair well. John quickly went about getting his clothes back on. But it was too late. For John didn’t know Sherlock had been back for quite a while. In fact, Sherlock had been back long enough to hear quite a bit of his and Molly’s encounter. Sherlock had come back from his walk at the point of hearing John gasp and tell Molly that something wasn’t right. What was Molly doing there? Let alone with John? The detective had wondered. Of course it was a split second later that his brilliant mind put two and two together. He waited to see though. Heard the moans, heard Molly demand to know if she was a nice girl. Once it got to the point that Sherlock couldn’t hear anything, he’d placed his foot right on the stair he knew squeaked to signal someone was coming. Heard Molly gasp and run from the flat. Heard John say it was an accident, heard Molly beg John not to tell Sherlock himself. Sherlock had stepped back into the shadows to the side of the stairwell as Molly came running by and out the door. Felt himself glare at her. He’d deal with her eventually, but for now, there was John to take care of. Wondering what John was doing, Sherlock decided to give him a chance to cover anything he might need to.

                        “John, I’m back!” he called, disguising the anger and disgust in his voice. He heard the couch creak as John was moving around of some sorts. After an exact two minute count, Sherlock made his way up the stairs. He entered the flat and found John sitting there, book in hand.

                        “Welcome home Sherlock.” John said. Sherlock didn’t say anything, but John’s voice told him quite a bit. The fact John’s heart was still racing a bit and that he hadn’t expected Sherlock back so soon or at least was hoping Sherlock wouldn’t be back so soon.

                        “Mmmm.” Sherlock just said. He walked over and placed skull back on the mantel.

                        “Have a nice talk with skull did you?” John asked, making in Sherlock’s mind a pitiful excuse at a joke.

                        “Yes, though he was a bit of a conversation hog.” Sherlock said in a monotone voice. He looked briefly at John.

                        “Enjoying your book?”

                        “Oh yes, quite. Been meaning to read it for a bit.” John said. Sherlock could hear the nervousness in his voice, but he didn’t give in right away that he knew what he knew.

                        “Upside down?” Sherlock asked. John looked at the book and saw he’d been holding it upside down.

                        “Whoops that might explain a bit.” John laughed a bit. Sherlock rolled his eyes as he turned to face the coat stand to hang his coat and scarf.

                        “Forget how to dress ourselves today did we John?” Sherlock asked, noticing the fly on John’s pants was undone. He heard John shift behind him.

                        “Oh, must have forgotten that when I finished using the restroom a bit ago.” John had said. Sherlock rolled his eyes yet again at John’s feeble attempts to act like nothing had happened the whole time Sherlock was gone. As he hung his coat, he saw something by the stand, his riding crop. Sherlock slyly looked over his shoulder without moving his head and slowly reached out to pick it up.

                        “John, have I ever told you what one of my biggest pet peeves is?” John laughed his nervous laugh a bit.

                        “You have just one?” Sherlock smirked as he pulled the riding crop close to him, bending the head of it a bit.

                        “It’s lying John.”

                        “Excuse me?”

                        “Lying John. It’s one of the things can almost get me to display anger. I can’t stand to be lied to.” He smirked a bit more at hearing John gulp.

                        “Well yes, I suppose that would make anyone angry.” John said in a reserved tone.

                        “And the thing is John; everyone does it at some point. Mycroft lies; Lestrade makes pitiful attempts at it. Criminals, oh they lie all the time. ‘Oh no, it wasn’t me. It must have been someone else.’ ‘I was framed.’ Or ‘There’s no way you could have known that, you can’t know that’. Everyone lies John. But do you know who’s never lied to me?”

                        “Who?” John asked in a bit of a dry voice.

                        “No one.” Sherlock said as he planned his move.

                        “N-no one?” John asked, his voice beginning to break. Sherlock quickly turned on his heel and making the riding crop scream silently through the air, smacked it hard on a magazine on the coffee table, causing it to slice in two, several pages becoming air born. John let out a noise of fear & surprise, cowering on the couch.

                        “Sherlock, it was an accident! Molly showed up drunk, she was upset. I didn’t mean for it to happen, it didn’t mean anything!” John confessed. Sherlock walked over to the cowering man. Interesting that he had once been a soldier, but then as Sherlock knew, everyone could experience fear, especially if it came from the anger of a loved one.

                        “I suppose a lesson needs to be learned then?” Sherlock asked. John looked up at Sherlock.

                        “Oh come on now Sherlock, leave Molly alone. She hasn’t hurt anyone, and she was sorry, I could tell that.” John stated in a defensive tone. Sherlock gently caressed the side of John’s face with the leather end of the crop and leaned down, his eyes flashing at John until they were face to face.

                        “Oh my dear, dear John. I wasn’t referring to Molly.” Sherlock said. He brought the crop to its final resting place, under John’s chin, forcing him to look him in the eyes. Slowly Sherlock leaned down and placed a soft kiss on his lover’s lips, parting John’s mouth slightly so their tongues would brush. Then pulling back, but not breaking eye contact with John he added.

                        “Believe me John; this is going to hurt me far more than it hurts you.”

 

                                                                                    Fin


End file.
